


Honest

by almaelson



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Deep Connection, Emotional Connection, First Times, Hand Job, M/M, Talking, intimate talk, long talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 10:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaelson/pseuds/almaelson
Summary: Jon and Gendry spend a night together at Dragonstone. "Just one more time before I die. It’s all I’d ask from the gods. Give me one night with someone who really wants me."





	Honest

 He was running his hands slowly over the obsidian dragon carvings in the map room, fingertips touching their jaws and sharp teeth. Jon watched those hands, hands that, during Gendry’s time as a blacksmith, had done rough work to create beautiful things. Gendry was tracing a finger along a spine when he turned around. Jon hadn’t cleared his throat or made any intentional sound. He hadn’t wanted to interrupt Gendry’s exploration with his hands, disrupt the look of wonder on his face.

            “Apologies, my Lord.” Gendry removed his hands from the dragon and dropped them to his sides.

            Jon smiled and shook his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for, and I’ve told you, there’s no need to call me that.”

            Gendry made a rueful face and shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a habit I’m afraid. Used to addressing customers as my Lord and Ser and the like.” As he spoke, a soft wind with a bite of cold moved strands of his hair around his eyes. He brushed the strands away with his long fingers.

            Jon knew about habits. He had had a curiosity about other people’s hands since he had burnt one of his own. He’d subtly try to observe someone’s while keeping enough eye contact with them so as not to draw attention to himself. Davos’s hands were large and knobby-knuckled, even on his hand that lacked the top knuckles. Jorah’s were slimmer and looked at home gripping the sword always at his side. Daenerys’s were narrow and smooth, both the backs and palms. Gendry’s hands looked more like his own, although Jon imagined the palms were much, much rougher from years of handling tools in stifling heat.

Watching hands was becoming a habit. Gendry was not immune to his impulse.

Jon had been idly tracing his burnt hand as he been lying awake in bed. These days, he didn’t so much sleep as pass out from pure exhaustion. As soon as he closed his eyes at night, his mind jumped alive with tactics, logistics, every conceivable plan to fight the darkness that was encroaching. He counted another circle under his eyes every morning. He forced himself to keep his hands by his sides when he was with the others, keep them still, strong on the pommel of Longclaw. But at night, his hands laced themselves together, he tapped one nail against another, unclenched the fists he hadn’t realized he’d been making. When he closed his eyes, it wasn’t long before he saw the ice-white faces in the cave float across his mind.

He'd been ready to bang his head against the cave wall in frustration. The time it had taken to convince the Dragon Queen that the entire realm was threatened had made him want to put his fist through a window, or at least upend the entire map table. Jon hadn’t felt such violent impulses since his early days at the Wall, when he’d tried to knife Ser Alliser for sneering at him. For _trying_ to provoke him. He’d been ashamed then, knowing his father would have shaken his head and whispered some bit of sage. “It doesn’t do to go at a man who stretches out his hand for your anger.”

Several years later he’d hanged Ser Alliser for treason, and now the man was as dead as his father in the crypt at Winterfell.

Anger was Jon’s bedfellow these days. Anger, and the ice.

            He’d turned around in the cave and there Gendry had been, Davos fussing over him, but the young man made no bones about who he was. Jon had laughed for the first time in what felt like a thousand years. The sounds had been soft but true and had brought him back to the present, back from those thousand years where his mind had been seeking the First Men, desperate for their secrets. For the moment, Gendry had been the only man in his view. And he hadn’t minded. He’d gone to sleep that night with the fond memory of Gendry’s chuckle, and the other man’s face had lingered longer in his mind than the painted white faces on the cave walls.

            Jon still felt a little strange when he remembered that fact.

This night, he had wandered down the dark, draughty halls and into the map room, thinking to fiddle with the pieces on the table until his eyes drooped closed. He’d thought to be alone, but found that Gendry’s presence wasn’t unwelcome to his weary soul.

            Jon opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them. It was darker here than in his room with its lone burning candle, only star shine and moonlight lending their brilliance to the room. There was never any aura of rest outside Dragonstone’s walls. The ocean and the wind were always awake, currents blowing and surf tumbling. Gendry now had his arms wrapped around his middle as the wind continued to brush through his hair. “You should rest in your room,” Jon said. “It’s cold here, off the water.”

            “Cold’s not much trouble to me. After King’s Landing in the summer all my life, it’s not so bad being back here. It’s not…” He ran his tongue over his top lip and frowned. “Well. Let’s say last time I was here, I didn’t enjoy the cold. I didn’t enjoy very much.”

            Jon nodded. Davos had taken him aside shortly after Gendry’s arrival and told him about “that damned unnatural fiendish Red Woman seducing him only to suck his blood out like a damned parasite from all the Seven Hells,” the cold cell, the boat that Gendry had rowed (“a miracle from the Seven that the poor lad didn’t overturn himself while he was still on the sand”).

            “You’re not cold though.” Gendry gestured at Jon, who was wearing only his black nightshirt and pants. “No gloves. No cape. I imagine not much makes you cold. Given where you’ve been the past few years.”

            Jon walked further into the room, his boots echoing off the dragon carved walls. He idly touched the obsidian with his burnt hand. “You’d be surprised,” he murmured, “although it’s not the weather that makes me cold.”

            “The food here, then? Mine’s never cooked in the middle.”

            Jon snorted. It was true that the cook they’d found to prepare their meals wasn’t the finest in the realm. “I’m grateful, though,” Gendry added quickly. “A hot meal. Well, a mostly hot one. I won’t complain. Better than pigeon pie. But what’s cold, then?”

            “What?”

            “What’s it that makes you cold, if not the weather?”

            Jon sighed and leaned against a smooth section of the wall. “It’s not an amusing conversation. I don’t want to burden you with it.”

            Gendry moved a step closer, tugging his coat closer to his chest. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

            Jon idly pulled at one of his cuffs. “No. I’m not worried about that. It’s not a secret, but even if it were, you’d keep it.”

            Gendry blinked as the wind sifted past him and touched its cool fingers to Jon’s face. “You trust me that much.”

            Jon gave him a small smile. “Of course. You know how to keep secrets.”

            Gendry looked down, toeing the floor. “Ah. My father.”

            Jon grimaced. He of all people should have known what a sensitive topic parents were. He didn’t usually speak without thinking. That had been something the other, younger Jon did. But something about the easy flow of conversation with Gendry made it feel so easy to speak his mind. It was as if they were meeting for the first time again in the cave, and honesty was their language among the torchlight. Still, he felt a pull of regret. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

            Gendry shrugged his shoulder again. “It’s alright. I don’t feel much when I think of him.” He tapped a dragon’s tooth with the back of his nail. “Hard to even think of him as my father. Far as I knew my whole life, I didn’t have one. Might as well have hatched from a dragon egg.” Gendry looked at the ceiling and pressed a hand to his chest. “No disrespect to her, but the way the Dragon Lady goes on and on. ‘Oh, my children! The eggs they hatched from. You should have seen the colors, felt the ridges, sniffed the sulphur!’”

            His impression of Daenerys was flawless and Jon burst out a small laugh. Warmth gathered in his chest and he smiled as it lingered. “I’ve felt that way sometimes.”

            “What? That you hatched out of a pretty dragon egg?”

            Jon leaned against the wall, still smiling. “No, I can’t say I ever imagined a dragon was my mother. I mean that I may as well have just appeared one day and my father took me home.” He frowned and gave a shake of his head. “That’s a disservice to my mother, I know. She was a flesh and blood person. But the idea of her is all I have.”

            Gendry nodded as the moon passed behind him and threw a shine of light behind his head. Jon traced the light with his eyes. It made a lovely halo around the other man. “I’ve only the same. Just an idea. Is that what makes you cold?”

            Jon snapped his eyes away from the light around Gendry and stood away from the wall. “Cold?”

            Gendry gave him a wry smile. “You still haven’t answered my question. About what it is that makes you cold. At this rate you never will. I might as well go back to sleep in my egg.”

            Jon smiled, then sighed. “No. I didn’t answer. Like I said, it’s not something anyone needs to hear. And it doesn’t reflect very well on myself, either.”

            “You can tell me. Secrets, remember?”

            This young man was a funny one. Such an honest face but a mind that hid jokes until the exact moment when they landed best. He would have been a joy to have around at Castle Black, a place known to drain men of their humor. Gendry would have weathered it, Jon mused. He would have understood the secret of survival – the humor that must be pried mercilessly out of the shadows and passed around with your friends, nurtured carefully like a small candle flame that couldn’t be allowed to go out. He hardly knew this other man, who was probably within months of his own age, but the rapport forming between them felt easy in a way Jon hadn’t experienced in a long while. He felt the urge to confide tug at his mind until the words seemed to give themselves up without Jon realizing.

            “It’s the weight,” Jon breathed out. “The weight of the world on my shoulders. As Lord Commander. Lord of Winterfell. King in the North. It sounds selfish, I know,” he cut in quickly as Gendry opened his mouth and made a gesture. “I’m not proud to say it. I’m hardly the only one who feels this way, I know. Lady Daenerys, I’m sure she feels the same. Even the Queen in King’s Landing, for all I know. But I feel myself freeze sometimes. So many people depend on me for their survival. So many brothers I left behind at the Wall. All of the North. Sansa, my sister, though I’ve no doubt she’s doing fine without me.” He smiled, then closed his eyes again, blew out a breath. “But there’re so many hands reaching toward me. And I try to reach back. I try with all my strength. But sometimes it feels less like they’re reaching and more like they’re pushing. Pushing down on me. I’m only one person. But so many eyes are on me. They’re warm, so many of their gazes. But I sit alone in my room with only Ghost by my side and I begin to feel the ice.” Jon moved his eyes over the wooden pieces on the map table. “The ice doesn’t thaw. It keeps freezing. And it’s painful. What if I let everyone down? What if I’m not the king the people deserve? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m doing what I think is right. But I don’t know if it will be enough.”

            He looked from the table to Gendry, who met his gaze. There were hardly three feet between them, Jon realized. The moon had moved away from Gendry’s head, but Jon could see the angles of his cheekbones in the dim light. They were quite lovely, Jon realized with a small jolt in his heart.

            Gendry stared at him. Jon couldn’t read his expression. He could only look in the eyes that were holding his own. Then Gendry’s face was suddenly soft. “Fear,” he said. “That’s what the ice is. The cold. It’s fear.” There was no accusation in his voice.

            Jon felt no hesitation in his answer. He simply nodded. “Yes. That’s what it is.”

            Gendry bent his bottom lip underneath his top row of teeth, and put one hand back on a dragon carving, his eyes shining in a glazed way in the starlight. “I’m afraid too.”

            Jon touched his burnt hand absently. “I promise to do all I can to kee-”

            Gendry gestured at him, fingers spread apart, a sort of sideways wave. It was a gesture charming in its spontaneity. “No. I’m not afraid for my safety. I’m from King’s Landing. Loads of people die there every day. I was hunted by Goldcloaks who wanted to kill me because I’m the dead king’s bastard. I’m still alive. I’m not afraid of the dying part itself,” he whispered. “But my real fear. Well.” He chewed on his lip. “It’s stupider than yours.”

            Jon frowned and shook his head. “That’s not possible. There are no stupid fears.”

            Gendry pursed his lips as he stared intently at his boots. “Alright. I’ll tell you.”

            “No, you don’t have to.”

            “I want to.” He looked up at Jon, eyes open in a way that was almost painful in their earnestness. He swallowed, then looked away from Jon. “Never touching someone. Someone who’s honest with me. That’s my fear”

            Jon stared at him.

            He hadn’t expected anything like this. He’d heard men confess their fears all the time, some under their breaths at the Wall, those breaths that turned into mist as soon as they left their mouths. Some men had confided in him, unasked. “I don’t want to die,” Sam had said, wrapped in furs and trembling at the top of the Wall. “I don’t want to die here, Jon.” Jon had shaken his head in disbelief. “You’ve killed a White Walker, Sam.” “Doesn’t matter,” Sam had shivered. “I’m still scared. I hide it from Gilly. But it doesn’t go away.”

            Jon had heard other fears whispered in trembling voices. “I’m afraid of not living before I die.” “I’m afraid of not being truly happy before I go.” He’d heard Pyp and Grenn, leaning against the castle walls, blow off steam by talking about their ideal women. “Don’t wanna die until I get fucked by her,” they’d sighed. “Fuck me. I’m stuck here at the arse end of the world and it’ll never happen. No whore in Molestown looks like my woman.” Jon had rolled his eyes, but he heard the longing in his friends’ voices. After his idyll with Ygritte in the underground cave, he couldn’t truthfully tell them that they weren’t missing anything. He saw the way they would glance at him after talking about women, as if to say, _It’s not fair he had a girl beyond the Wall. Why did he get lucky and not us?_ As if what he’d been through, Ygritte dying bloody in his arms, had made him lucky. But he knew better than to say that in front of his sworn brothers.

But he’d never heard anyone phrase their fear the way Gendry had. Afraid of not being touched by someone honest. He involuntarily looked down at Gendry’s hands. The other man was flexing his fingers in and out from his palms, digging his fingernails in. He was looking sideways at the carved dragon, his jaw set. Jon could tell his admission had cost him a form of emotional labor he wasn’t used to.

            Jon touched the wall, hoping to catch Gendry’s attention. Gendry looked up slowly, almost anxiously. Jon spoke as gently as he could.

            “That’s not stupid. Not at all. Why would you think so?”

            Gendry took a quick breath and looked slightly past Jon’s ear. “It’s embarrassing. I know, I know. It shouldn’t be. It wasn’t something I thought much about until she…the Red Woman…touched me. I was so stupid to think she really wanted me. I was so scared at first. But then when she…when we…when it was happening, it was the best thing I’d ever felt.” He stared intently past Jon. “I never went to any brothels in King’s Landing. My master forbade it. Said it’d make me lazy and he’d cut me loose. But I never really wanted to go anyway. Even if I could have. I was so busy with my work. Never crossed my mind that I was missing much. Was content with putting all my energy into smithing and nothing else. Even made a helmet for myself. But her body…” He looked down under his eyelashes. “Her touching me. Me touching her. Just those few moments before she…you know. Tied me up.” He laughed but Jon didn’t hear any humor in it. “I never felt so happy. I want it again. Just one more time before I die. It’s all I’d ask from the gods. Give me one night with someone who really wants me.” He met Jon’s eyes briefly and then flicked them away.

Jon watched as Gendry fiddled a finger around a dragon’s eye. The moon was moving further off and the cold was all-encompassing. He sensed more than saw that Gendry was shivering. He didn’t want their meeting to end like this, leaving Gendry alone with his discomfort at baring a part of himself. “I’ll tell you something,” Jon said. “But I won’t watch you stand here and suffer. You can get warm in my room before you go to bed. Come on.” Jon turned and walked past the map table and out into the drafty hall. For a moment, he didn’t hear Gendry following behind him. It wasn’t until he was at the door to his room that he heard the soft slaps of boot soles on stone floor. Jon opened the door and held it for Gendry, who walked in without looking at him. He stood in the middle of the room as Jon struck flint and threw the spark into the fireplace. When Jon glanced over at Gendry, he had his hands clasped in front of his waist. When Jon glanced a second time, they were linked behind his back.

Remorse hit Jon like a stone dropped in his stomach. He shouldn’t have pushed Gendry, shouldn’t have stirred up those memories of Melisandre. Jon had been lucky enough to have lain with a girl who loved him. Gendry had had no such privilege.

            “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” Jon said as he stoked the fire and stood up. Gendry shook his head and Jon sighed. He didn’t like to think he’d sapped Gendry’s humor so quickly and thoroughly. “I’ve a bad habit of saying the wrong thing when I mean to say the best thing. Even with my friends.” He watched for the effect of his words on Gendry’s face. An unexpected thrill of surprise went through him when he saw the corner of Gendry’s mouth turn up.

            “Well. Your record didn’t get any better just now.”

            Jon smiled, looking down. “I know. But I am sorry. Truly. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. Come sit over here where it’s warm.”

            Gendry finally looked at Jon. The warm light of the fire had bloomed on his face. Jon traced his cheekbones with his eyes. He’d only seen Robert Baratheon once, but Gendry looked little like him. Maybe he favored his mother, or the young Robert he’d never known. At any rate, Gendry was a handsome man, more handsome than Jon had ever allowed himself to acknowledge until this moment. He imagined Gendry in the forge, pounding metal, the fire’s heat sheening sweat on his forehead, the drops rolling down from his temples. Heat emanating from his entire body. Jon’s heart pulsed an unfamiliar kind of beat.

No. Not unfamiliar. One he’d only known when he’d looked at Ygritte. Strange. A little unsettling, actually.

            Jon shook away his dazed thoughts. He broke his gaze the moment Gendry met it. Jon hoisted himself up, took a blanket from a chair, and spread it before the fire. Gendry sat down cross-legged beside him. His knee bumped Jon’s and they both flinched. “Apologies,” Gendry said, worry in his eyes. Then he half-smiled again. “I still don’t know how to move around Lord and Lady houses.”

            That humor again. Jon breathed a sigh of relief as softly as he could. Gendry’s brief touch had put a tingling in his hands that was as confusing as the pulse of desire in his heart.

It was late. Maybe he was just even more tired than usual. Was that possible?

“Is the warmth better?”

            “It is.”

            “You see? Lord and Lady places aren’t superior to any other building. All you need is a fireplace.”

            “Or a forge.”

            “Or a forge.” The flames in front of them murmured and cracked as Jon tried to relax. It was as if Gendry had read his thoughts, had seen the images of himself working iron dancing in Jon’s mind. He leaned back on his hands, watching the burning logs. It was easier than looking at Gendry at the moment. And talking was a good distraction. It was only fair, he thought as he gathered courage that he was shocked to find faltering. Gendry had shared with him. It was time he returned the gesture.

He swallowed. “What I wanted to tell you is that I broke my vows for other reasons than to befriend the Wildlings. I broke them because I knew your fear would come to me if I didn’t. Ygritte, the Wildling girl I loved, I knew I’d go out of my mind if I didn’t touch her when she told me she wanted me. I knew if I didn’t, I’d live to regret it all my life. Being a sworn brother, I didn’t ever think I’d have the chance to be with a woman. But she gave me the chance, and I acted so the fear would never take hold. And when I escaped back to Castle Black, there were men who wanted me dead because of it. And I thought to myself, they can kill me, but they can’t take away what she meant to me. They can’t take away her touches. They’ll always be on my skin.”

            Jon realized he’d been fiddling with his burnt hand again. He stilled himself. Gendry breathed shakily and Jon turned his head. Gendry was looking past his ear again, but then met Jon’s eyes. He swallowed and tried for a crooked smile, but Jon could tell it took effort. “Well. It’s good not to be alone in that fear. To have been alone. Ygritte. That’s a pretty name.”

            “Kissed by fire,” Jon said, gesturing to the flames wavering up and down. “For her red hair.”

            Gendry shifted. “It all comes back to fire, doesn’t it.”

            The Priestess. Jon mentally cursed himself again. He didn’t have particularly good days lately, but he desperately wanted to salvage this night. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He turned to Gendry just as the other man was rolling his eyes. When he saw that Jon had seen them, he rolled them again.

            “Going to make you give me a gold coin every time you mope. ‘Ah wish ah ‘adn’t said thaht. Then I’ll be rich. I’ll even make Tywin Lannister’s ghost jealous.”

            Jon shook in silent laughter. “If that isn’t a reason to stop, I don’t know what is.”

            Gendry smiled. “Nah. You can keep saying it. Every time you say it, it means you’ve just been honest with me.”

            Jon frowned. “I always try to be honest with everyone.”

            Gendry made the hand flapping motion at him again. “No, I mean, yes, you’re always honest with everyone. I meant honest in a different way. Like you’ve revealed something about yourself. Something kind of secret.” He looked away from the fire. Jon glanced at his cheekbones, orange in the light. Gods, he was handsome. It was becoming useless to deny it. Jon rubbed a finger across his burnt patch of skin again. It was still rough after all these years. How rough would Gendry’s hands feel if they touched him? He’d wondered the same thing about Ygritte’s hands, smooth but with rough patches on her fingers where she held her arrows to her bow. The past and present were floating side by side in Jon’s mind, and when he reached for the line separating them, he felt dizzy. The only way he knew how to ground himself was to keep talking.

            Jon didn’t trust himself to look at Gendry as he said, “You’re easy to talk to, Gendry. Do you know that?”

            He saw Gendry shrug out of the corner of his eye. “It’s nice to hear someone say that. I never got much practice talking to people, being cooped up in the workshop all day.” He was stretching out his legs. “This is a night, isn’t it?”

            Jon intently watched a twig crumble into ash. “What do you mean?”

            “Well it started off as just any night, well as just any night in a dragon fortress can be, and I just told someone my biggest fear and now I know theirs. Can’t say that’s how I expected this night to go.” Gendry moved his shoulders up and down. Jon looked in spite of himself. Gendry continued moving until he’d slipped out of his coat. In only his shirtsleeves, he looked even leaner and stronger than before, his bicep muscles visible through the cloth. Arms that had been surrounded by heat for hours at a time. Jon could almost feel it radiating from them now. Or was that his own skin burning up?

            “My Lord? Jon?”

            Jon suppressed a twitch and looked at Gendry. “Yes?”

            Gendry slowly leaned his head to one side. “Nothing. You were just quiet there a moment. I wondered if I’d said something wrong.”

            Jon blinked. “No. You’re fine. I sink into my thoughts sometimes. Apologies.”

            “No need for them. I really should go. I’ll start a fire in my own room.” Gendry stood up. “Many thanks for sharing your hearth with me, my Lo-” He cleared his throat. “Jon.”

            Jon levered himself up and looked at Gendry full in the face, forgetting for a moment the strange twinges and pulses he felt inside when he did so. He felt his breath hitch as he watched Gendry part his lips slightly.

            A log crashed in the fire. Jon and Gendry both turned and watched it spray up sparks. Jon breathed in relief at Gendry’s distracted attention. Still looking at the fire, he said, “You need to start giving _me_ a gold coin every time you ‘my Lord’ me.”

            He heard Gendry snort. “We’ll be passing the same coin back and forth every ten minutes at the rate we’re going.”                                                                                               

            Jon breathed in deeply again, trying to keep his heart steady and the ground firm under his feet. The smell of salt was strong in the air, even with the windows closed. He’d only seen the sea in the past few months of his life. He felt as though he were living in half a dream. Stone walls, familiar since his childhood in Winterfell, enclosed unfamiliar carvings of dragons over the strange sight of the ocean. Heart-pulsing desire felt the same way it had beyond the Wall, but the person in his sight was neither kissed by fire nor a woman. Hands were still fascinating, but instead of wanting to caress the Dragon Queen’s marble skin, he wanted to touch Gendry’s rough hands, watch the muscles in his arms flex as he moved over Jon…

            “I should go. I’ll be going.”

            Jon saw Gendry’s hand stretch out. He realized Gendry was offering a parting handshake. He took Gendry’s hand before his thoughts could race. They shook hands gently. Gendry’s palm was as rough as Jon had imagined. It was dizzying. He started to pull his hand away as fast as he could when Gendry made a surprised sound and grasped Jon’s fingers. “A burn,” he said, uncurling Jon’s fingers away from his palm. “But it looks old. How did you get this?”

            Jon’s blood thrummed and he felt himself tensing. He said, more stiffly than he meant to, “It’s a few years old. I threw a lantern at a wight that attacked Commander Mormont and me.”

            “A wight.”

            “Yes.”

            “Just the way you say it. So casually.”

            “It’s becoming a habit, killing wights.”

            “And the ice keeps freezing.”

            Jon looked up.

            Gendry dropped Jon’s hand. “I’m sorry. This time it’s me who shouldn’t have brought it up.”

            “It’s alright. I’m used to talking about dark things.”

            “Do you ever have bad dreams? From all the things you’ve seen?”

            “Bad dreams? No. I don’t dream.” Jon thumbed his burn.

            “Can I see it again? Your burn?”

            Jon lifted his hand again without thinking. This time Gendry cradled it in one of his own and used the fingers of his other to examine the burn. He traced a finger around the burn’s shape. “You know, people would come up to me on the streets of Flea Bottom sometimes, telling me they could read my hand. That they could tell me my whole future just by looking at the palm.”

            “Hand reading?” Jon frowned. “What did you say to them?”  
            “I told them nah, I didn’t need my hand read. I knew what my future was. I would live and die in Flea Bottom, smithing until I was too old to move my arms. And anyway they refused to read my hand unless I gave them a copper first. I wanted to tell them I’d read their palm instead and tell them their future was to piss off with none of my coppers.”

            Jon chuckled. They were back in the cave again.

            Gendry kept his eye on his finger tracing Jon’s burn but smiled. “It’s good to hear you laugh. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

            Jon watched Gendry’s finger go around and around his burn. “It’s nice to laugh. Ygritte used to tickle me to make me…” His words died as Gendry moved his finger off Jon’s burn and onto the opposite side of his palm, the soft, unburnt side. It made his nerve endings tingle. “What is it? Do I have a mark there, too?”

            “No. What? They didn’t stab you in the hand when they killed you, did they?”

            Jon gave him a disbelieving look. “No. That’s a bit morbid, isn’t it?”

            “If you say so. I say it’s a blessing.”

            Now that he hadn’t expected, either. “Blessing?”

            Gendry dropped Jon’s hand and took a step back. “I should go. Thanks for the fire.”

            “A blessing? Gendry? What do you mean?” An ache was edging into Jon’s heart at the thought of Gendry leaving. He looked for Gendry’s hands. They were balled into fists.

            “Nothing. Idle talk.”

            “I don’t understand. I wish you’d tell me.”

            “I read your hand.” Gendry shook his head and combed fingers back through his hair. “I did have my palm read once. It’s embarrassing. I thought it meant fuck all at the time. But my master had beaten me that day for not charging a customer enough and I was desperate to know if I’d ever save enough to get out and set up my own forge. I paid a whole copper to a woman who looked at a line on my hand and told me I’d see ice before I died. I was angry as all out. ‘Winter is coming,’ I yelled at her, trying to wrestle my copper back. ‘Of course I’m going to see some fucking ice before I die.’ She told me I didn’t know what I was talking about and ran away with my copper. I looked at the line on my hand that she’d pointed to. This one.” He moved to stand beside Jon and held his right palm up. Jon looked at the spot he pointed to. “The lines are ‘chained,’ you see? There are two and they criss-cross each other over and over. That’s my ice line. I’ve looked at it a lot over the years. It looks like yours.”

            Jon reflexively flipped his own right palm up even as he stared at Gendry. Then he searched out the spot and found that it was indeed two lines that were heavily chained, with gaps visible in the middle of some of the links. He looked at Gendry’s hand, then back at his own. The lines weren’t identical, but they were similar enough to keep him looking between the two in wonder. The same open link here, the same twining there. He felt the ground shift under his feet.

            “The one part of your hand that wasn’t burnt,” Gendry almost whispered. “And your fear is ice inside you.” He ran his finger lightly down the chained lines on Jon’s hand. Jon thought, in a vague and fragmented way, that no other man had ever touched him as much as Gendry had in the past minute. Gendry’s fear of not being touched by someone honest floated through his mind. He didn’t know what he was doing. Gendry’s smile in the cave, his own laugh. The image and the sound were present in this moment. Gendry Waters had given him moments of happiness, lovely as pearls, like no one else had.

And he hadn’t taken his hands away from Jon’s.

Jon was an honest man, or he’d make himself one yet.

            “May I see again?” he whispered, nodding to Gendry’s right hand. Gendry stopped tracing Jon’s hand and laid his own flat in the air. Jon took it, tentatively, then held it firmly as he examined what Gendry had called his ice line. He touched the tips of the fingers of his other hand to the creases. Even through all the rough skin, all the calluses, the ice line was fully visible.

            “What do you think it means?” Gendry asked quietly.

            “I don’t know,” said Jon. His heart flipped, nerves set his veins alight, and he said, honestly, “I can’t read palms. I just wanted to touch your hand again. It’s very beautiful.”

            He stilled his finger on Gendry’s palm and waited, heat blazing in his blood. It was too hot in the room. The floor was tilted. His mind felt light. The salt smell was suddenly stifling and it turned his stomach. He shifted his stance and felt a pounding start in his temples. The only people he’d ever called beautiful were Arya, to tease her because he knew she hated it, and Ygritte, who pretended not to care but whom he knew secretly reveled in it. The sensation of living in the half-dream world intensified. Many things were beautiful. Girls. Sunsets and sunrises. Heart trees. Gendry Waters’s hands and cheekbones, his frank eyes and muscled arms. This young man he hadn’t known existed a month ago but who had crossed his path, crossed it as permanently as the crossed lines on both their palms. It must be long past midnight now but he knew the adrenaline in his body would keep him awake for hours. He’d be wringing his own hands until he dozed. The sun would rise. The beautiful Dragon Queen would grace him with her haughty presence. And Gendry Waters and his beautiful hands would live in the half-dream world. Untouchable.

            In the end, it was Gendry who pulled him out of the half-world by softly removing Jon’s burnt hand from their tangle of hands and lacing his fingers through it. With their hands entwined, he slowly led Jon to the bed and pulled him down next to him. He unlaced their fingers and brought Jon’s right palm up to his lips, gently pressing them against the unburnt soft skin. “It’s a blessing,” he whispered. And then, “You look so surprised. You’re pretty thick, Jon Snow, you know that, right? You never guessed I wanted you, too? My Lord?”

            Jon’s heart tumbled in his chest even as he heaved a laugh so hard that he doubled over and Gendry put a hand around his shoulder to keep him from leaning too far off the bed. Relief, desire, shock, awe, and more desire flooded him. He felt the half-dream shatter and dissolve into the salt night and the sweetness of reality take hold of him. He took one of Gendry’s rough palms and placed it against his cheek. It felt glorious, every bump and callus, every hard patch, every finger that had been bathed in smoke for years. Gendry brought his other hand to Jon’s other cheek and pulled their faces closer.

            “This feels funny,” Gendry whispered. “I won’t lie to you. But I want to do it. I like the way your hands feel in mine.”

            Jon held Gendry’s hands to his face. Gendry’s breath was warm. “I don’t know what I’m doing, either.” He put one hand on the back of Gendry’s neck, felt the softness of his hair. “But I know what I’m feeling.” He leaned into Gendry’s ear. “I want to be someone honest.”

            Gendry pressed his forehead against Jon’s. Jon found his breath coming shallow and fast. He could see every line of Gendry’s lips as Gendry said, “I’ve never been with a man. I’ve hardly even been with a woman. I don’t know what I can give you. But I’ll try.”

            Jon began to ache in familiar places as he whispered, “I want to if you do.” He touched a fingertip to Gendry’s lips. They were cracked but Jon didn’t care. He leaned his head in and stopped just short of Gendry’s mouth, meeting his eyes. Gendry’s looked slightly feverish, but with an unmistakable burn of desire. He closed the gap between them and gently pressed his lips to Jon’s.

            Jon’s breath stuttered in his chest as he softly pushed his lips against Gendry’s, felt the cracks and smooth spots in between. The ache in him sharpened as Gendry broke his mouth away and then pressed it even harder to Jon’s. His hands were still on Jon’s face, excitingly firm. Jon explored the back of Gendry’s neck with his fingers as he pressed back on Gendry’s mouth. He moved his other arm around Gendry’s back to pull him even closer, their chests now touching. Gendry moved one of his hands to the back of Jon’s head, weaving his fingers through Jon’s curls. Jon sighed in pleasure, then his breath hitched in surprise as Gendry undid the half bun Jon had been gathering his hair into these days. Gendry broke away from Jon for a moment, smoothing Jon’s curls around his face. “I just wanted to see you with your hair down for once.”

            Jon smiled and shook his head, letting his hair settle into its natural position. Gendry grinned and took a lock between his fingers. “As soft as I imagined,” he whispered.

            Jon breathed a laugh. “You were imagining things about my hair?”

            “What? Everyone imagines things about your hair. It’s prettier than any girl.”

            Jon shook in silent laughter again. He touched Gendry’s hand that was holding his lock. “I’ve been imagining your hands all night.”

            Gendry tipped his head. “Yeah? What about them?”

            “How rough they’d feel.”

            Gendry frowned. “They don’t feel good.”

            “No, they feel incredible. On my face just now, I…it was wonderful.”

            “If you say so, my Lord.” Gendry grasped Jon’s face in both hands again and kissed him hard. Jon thrilled to the touch and they kissed desperately, hands roaming over each other’s backs. Jon’s eyes were squeezed shut and as they kissed faster, he missed Gendry’s mouth and kissed his jaw instead. Gendry gasped and Jon jolted away from him. Gendry gestured at him wordlessly before breathing out, “No, that felt amazing.”

            “Oh,” Jon said, relieved. “Is that something I should do again?

            Gendry pushed Jon’s chest but he was grinning. “Tease.”

            “Gasper.”

            “Shut it!” Gendry laughed and then melted into Jon’s arms with a shaky breath as Jon leaned in and kissed along his jawline. The stubble felt divine under his lips. He licked a small line along Gendry’s jaw and felt the other man shudder. He had both arms wrapped around Jon now, holding the two of them tightly together. Jon turned his head and kissed and licked the other side of Gendry’s jaw. Gendry’s hands were at the small of Jon’s back now and Jon felt him taking the edge of his shirt between two fingers. He brought his lips to Jon’s ear. “Can I take it off?”

            Jon smiled into Gendry’s cheek. “Only if I can take yours off.”

            He leaned back in time to see Gendry roll his eyes but his hands were quick and nimble as he bunched Jon’s shirt up. Jon raised his arms and Gendry pulled it over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it down the end of the bed. Jon reached for Gendry’s shirt but Gendry put both his hands on Jon’s chest before he could. His eyes were searching Jon’s skin, his rough-skinned palms everywhere at once. Jon hummed a noise and rolled his head back. Gendry pulled his hands away and looked at Jon apologetically. Jon wondered if he’d say something about all his scars, still so heavily visible, but Gendry only whispered, “Sorry. I just wanted to feel you there. I want to…I want to explore you. Not just because you’re a man and I’ve never been with a man. But you. I mean, if I could pick any man. It’d be you.”

            Jon gazed at him and pulled one Gendry’s hand back to his chest. “I’d choose you too. I do choose you. So explore me.”  
            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.”

            Gendry grinned and before Jon knew it, Gendry had pulled his own shirt off, mussing up his hair. Jon chuckled. “I thought that was going to be my job.”

            “Shut up.” Gendry grabbed Jon and held him fast against him. Jon leaned his cheek against Gendry’s shoulder and caressed his back. He hummed again as Gendry moved one rough palm and then the other over Jon’s back. They sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments, Jon reveling in the press of Gendry’s body against his own.

            As they lowered themselves to lie back, Jon realized how truly hungry he was for this man. The desire that throbbed in him was only stoked further as Gendry trailed his hands from Jon’s chest down to his hips. He felt himself fully hard. How had he ever thought that being with Gendry had only existed in some kind of dream world? That his attraction to him was some impossible path with a dead end? He’d known that some men lay with other men. He’d never thought he’d be one of them. But he never wanted to be anyone else in this moment as Gendry traced the line of Jon’s waist and whispered, “And these? Can I take them off too? It’s alright if I can’t. Don’t want to push you.”

            Jon ran a finger over Gendry’s bicep, soaking up every inch of it with his eyes. “No, I want you to feel me. The same way I want to feel you.” He touched the bottom of Gendry’s torso, just above the line of his pants. Gendry moved his hips in response, eyelids fluttering. Jon could see he was hard too, and that neither of them wanted to wait much longer.      

            They knelt up on the bed, both laughing, almost giggling as if they were boys, as they tried to simultaneously unfasten each other’s laces. Gendry beat Jon to the task and they were still laughing as they kicked off their boots. Gendry turned back to Jon, one finger on his waist. His breathing was fast. “This is alright?”

            Jon nodded, taking Gendry’s hands and pressing them against his hips. “More than alright.” He put his hands on Gendry’s broad shoulders and shifted his weight so that Gendry could unroll the top of his pants. Gendry’s rough fingertips moved the cloth slowly downwards and Jon gripped his shoulders tighter. He kept his eyes closed until the last moment, when Gendry had pushed the fabric all the way to Jon’s thighs. He looked down at himself, then at Gendry looking at him. Gendry’s lips were parted. He was in wonder.

            Their eyes met briefly and Gendry smiled with both corners of his mouth. It was as big a smile as he’d given Jon in the cave. The longing Jon felt was almost unbearable. He realized he was digging his fingers into Gendry’s shoulders. He relaxed his hands with difficulty. “Here.” He guided Gendry down so that their heads lay side by side on the pillow. “It’s easier lying down. I know that much.” Gendry grinned at him again and then looked back at Jon’s cock. He bit his lip.

            “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

            Jon squeezed his eyes shut in silent laughter. “You can start by touching me.”

            Gendry pushed Jon in the chest again and made a growling noise. “I know that, _my Lord_. I just. Alright. Tell me how this feels.” He put one index finger on the head of Jon’s cock and traced it to its base. Jon shuddered in pleasure and moved his hips closer to Gendry. Gendry kept his finger on Jon’s cock. “Pretty good, I take it?”

            Jon shakily let out his breath. “Two fingers. Please.”

            “Says ‘please,’ he’s so polite,” Gendry murmured as he ran two fingers up and down Jon’s cock. Jon knew he was digging his nails into Gendry’s shoulders again.

            “Does that hurt?”

            Gendry didn’t look at him. He was licking his bottom lip as he spread out four fingers and lightly traced them up and down Jon. “No. It feels good,” he whispered. “This feels ever better though. Never realized how badly I wanted to touch another man’s. My own’s boring to me now.”

            Jon grinned even as his breath came out unevenly. “It won’t be after I’m done with it.”

            Gendry laughed softly. With one finger he circled the head of Jon’s cock. Jon felt the rough tip and arched his back slightly. “Never knew,” Gendry murmured again. “Should have. It feels so right.” He paused his tracing. “Can I hold it?”

            Jon brought his hand to the back of Gendry’s neck and pulled his face closer. The warmth of their bodies together felt hotter by the moment and he basked in it, letting it wash over his cheeks, his groin, his thighs. “Take it and move your whole hand up and down. Slow at first, then faster.”

            Gendry gripped Jon’s cock and moved his hand from head to base. Jon closed his eyes and rolled his head back as the throbs of pleasure beat quicker inside him. When he opened his eyes again, the look of serious concentration on Gendry’s face almost had him laughing again, but he held it in as Gendry slowly increased his speed. “Am I doing it right?” He shifted himself even closer to Jon and pressed his other palm on the small of Jon’s back. Jon moved his head against Gendry’s in assent. The sensation of one rough hand on his cock and the other near his ass was edging him closer to climax.

“Grab me behind,” he breathed. Gendry lowered his hand and circled his palm around before squeezing. Jon’s breath stuttered and he rolled his hips. “Yes,” he whispered as Gendry worked both hands on him. Jon threaded his fingers through Gendry’s hair with one hand and put the other back on his shoulder. He held him close as Gendry’s rough palms became the only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed. He was close. “I’m go-” he managed before the fingers grasping his ass and the hand pumping his cock pushed his body to the limit. His mind blanked out as his ecstasy peaked and he came in Gendry’s hand. Gendry slowed his pumping on Jon’s cock but kept his other hand firmly on Jon’s ass. Jon’s breathing heaved for a few moments, his heartbeat wild, before he was able to look in Gendry’s eyes. There was awe in them. He was still holding Jon’s cock and didn’t let it go even as he loosened his grip on Jon’s ass and rested his palm there.

            “I’d say I did alright,” he said, one eyebrow raised.

            Jon rolled his eyes upward and closed them as he grinned. “You’re a natural.” He waited until his voice was steadier and added, “I knew you would be. A man who works with his hands all day.”

            Gendry laughed as he pressed his forehead against Jon’s. “You were beautiful,” he said. “Your face in pleasure. Beautiful.”

            “If it was, you made it that way.”

            “That’s damned flattery but I’ll take it.” He squeezed Jon’s ass again before letting go.

            “Here,” Jon said, chuckling, pulling himself up and fishing a handkerchief from the pocket of his pants still crumpled at the end of the bed. Gendry wiped his hand on it and threw it absently to the floor behind him, which made Jon laugh harder. “I’ve never laughed so much,” he said as he rested his head back on the pillow.

            “I’m honored,” Gendry said quietly. His voice and his gaze were serious. “I mean that. If anyone needs some joy in their life, it’s you.”

Jon ran the backs of his fingers down Gendry’s cheek. “You’re a joy.”

“I’m alright.”

Jon kissed him, and they lay for moment in silence, the only sounds the soft noises their mouths made. Jon gently bit Gendry’s bottom lip and Gendry returned the gesture. He put his tongue tentatively to Jon’s lips. Jon opened his mouth and Gendry slid his tongue inside. They played their tongues around inside each other’s mouths for long, lovely moments. When they broke apart, Gendry thumbed Jon’s lip. Jon nipped at it and Gendry pulled it away, laughing, then returned it. Jon touched Gendry’s bicep, then leaned over him and kissed a line down it, feeling the firm muscles with his lips. Gendry sighed, tangling fingers in Jon’s curls. Jon shifted himself and laid his body on top of Gendry. “What can I give you?” he whispered as he planted a kiss in the hollow of Gendry’s throat.

Gendry hummed, both of his hands in Jon’s hair. Jon licked a circle in the hollow and felt Gendry harden against him. “Your mouth,” Gendry said. “Would you do that to me? It’s alright if you don’t want to.”

Jon kissed his hollow once more and looked up. “I’ve never done it to a man. But if you want it, I’ll do all I can.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jon touched his lips to Gendry’s again before moving down his body. He undid the rest of the laces on Gendry’s pants and rolled them down and off his legs. Gendry’s breath came slightly faster as Jon tossed his pants to the end of the bed and looked back at Gendry’s body. His hard cock had a long vein on the underside and Jon moved his tongue toward it, then peered up at Gendry’s face. “Are you ready?” Gendry nodded, a look of bliss already glazing his eyes.

Jon touched his tongue to the vein and traced it. Gendry gasped and his hips jolted upwards as his hands tightened in Jon’s hair. Jon looked up and saw his head thrown back into the pillow, his mouth open in pleasure. Jon smiled to himself and ran his tongue the other way on the vein. He hadn’t the slightest idea if this was something men usually did to each other, but Gendry was in bliss and that was all that mattered to him. He remembered how Gendry had made a circle with his fingertip around the head of Jon’s own cock. He did the same with his tongue on the head of Gendry’s. The skin was smooth and warm and Jon felt himself harden again. This much he knew was usual, that to give pleasure to someone was to receive it in return.

He closed his lips around the head of Gendry’s cock as he continued to circle his tongue around it. Gendry was starting to thrust his hips into Jon’s mouth, so Jon took as much of Gendry’s cock into his mouth as he could. Gendry made a keening noise and lifted his hips up and down as Jon sucked him and ran his tongue up and down the shaft. Gendry’s fingers were starting to pull his hair to the point of pain, but Jon ignored it. He was enjoying the feel of Gendry’s cock in his mouth, the length, the velvet smoothness, that big vein. He thought of how Gendry had pumped him in his hand and wondered if the same thing worked with one’s mouth. He slid his mouth from base to head, slowly and then increasing the speed. Gendry made a moaning sound in his throat, his breathing like panting as he bucked his hips. Jon put his hands on Gendry’s hipbones as Gendry thrust faster, his hips lifting off the bed. Jon guessed he was close and moved his mouth up and down Gendry’s cock as fast as he could. Gendry cried out as he bucked his hips until he came, warm in Jon’s mouth. Jon felt his heart beating fast as he looked up at Gendry without removing his mouth from his cock. Gendry’s head was sideways on the pillow and he was still gasping and making noises of pleasure. His eyelashes fluttered as he peered down at Jon and smiled, pure joy in his eyes. He licked his lips and held Jon’s eyes. “That’s. That’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A few moments later, Jon had gathered Gendry to him, his back to Jon’s chest. He laced his fingers into Gendry’s and pressed kisses to the top of his shoulder. Gendry held their laced fingers against his heart. Jon felt the steady beat as he threw one leg over Gendry’s, the other man laughing softly and pushing even further back against Jon. Jon nuzzled Gendry’s ear. “This has been a night.”

Gendry turned his head and bumped his nose to Jon’s. “You damned thief. Those are my words.” He arched his neck to reach Jon’s mouth and they kissed deeply.

The fire was only embers now, an orange glow that no longer touched Gendry’s face. But their naked bodies pressed together gave Jon all the warmth he’d been craving. Thick salt and cold water couldn’t have taken it from him. When their mouths broke apart, Jon put his chin on Gendry’s shoulder and turned Gendry’s right palm over. He put a fingertip to the ice line, touching the chain from one side to the other, pausing on every link. “Do you think we’re connected?” he asked softly.

Gendry nodded. “I know we are. But it’s not because our palms look the same. I make you laugh, don’t I?”

Jon smiled against Gendry’s ear. “More than anyone.”

Gendry settled back against Jon and kissed the back of his hand. “That’s more important. I like making you laugh. I like you, Jon Snow.”

“I like you too, Gendry.”

“I think we should do this again. Maybe in the morning. Do you think?”

“Definitely in the morning.”

Gendry chuckled, his breath tickling Jon’s hand. “The others. They’ll be looking for us in the morning.”

“Let them.” Jon tipped Gendry’s face back to his and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Gendry looked in his eyes. “And if they ask? What we are to each other now?”

Jon returned his gaze. No images of creatures too white or fates too dark floated across his mind. He saw nothing but Gendry Waters’s beautiful face. “If they ask, then I’ll give them an honest answer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my old so and so for being the champion of this fic and my love of this ship. x


End file.
